


touching my hand in the darkened room

by planetsoflove



Category: Chicken Girls (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Underage Drinking, expansion of when gemma brings rhyme to the club, rewrite of s6ep5, rhyme is gay i don't take criticism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24937552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetsoflove/pseuds/planetsoflove
Summary: Rhyme still wasn't sure why Gemma had invited her to the club, but it was better than watching a movie with Harmony and trying not to cry over her friends hating her.
Relationships: Rhyme McAdams/Gemma
Kudos: 3





	touching my hand in the darkened room

**Author's Note:**

> rewrite of s6ep5, where rhyme and gemma go to the club. also, rhyme and wes aren't together, and neither are gemma and whatever tf her boyfriend's name was

Rhyme hands her ID to the bouncer, the flimsy plastic easily slipping out of her hand because of the layer of sweat that’s been accumulating since the car ride here. Rhyme clutches her purse against her thigh, and hopes that the bouncer can’t see how tightly she’s gripping it. She’s worried her fingers will snap like a piece of chalk, or break through the fabric of the bag. She diverts her attention to the other side of the street, lights flickering off in the row of restaurants. People mop, and pull down shades, and Rhyme remembers that this is just a normal Saturday night for them. It’s comforting. She supposes this is a normal night for everyone else except for her, thanks to Gemma. She certainly hadn't imagined sneaking into a club after a fight with her best friends, certainly not with a fake ID that she didn’t know existed—really, where had Gemma gotten it from?—more than two hours ago, and certainly not worried about why she’s so willing to say yes to Gemma. 

The bouncer says “Alright,” and Rhyme is so relieved her whole face lights up. Handing her back the ID, he nods for her to head inside. She steps through the doorway. 

The Club, aptly named, is air conditioned so strongly Rhyme can feel the sweat on the back of her neck turn into ice. She wishes she had brought a jacket. She wishes that she knew where—

“I told you it would work, babe,” Gemma says, swaying over to Rhyme. She’s smiling, in that cocky way of hers. Like she knows she’s going to be right all the time, and anyone who looks at her would know they’re making a mistake if they doubt her. Rhyme doesn’t remember it ever being aimed at another person, and now the lip glossed smile itself is filling her vision. It’s a pretty smile. 

To their left, a four piece pop band is playing on a stage. The band sounds decent; they’re good enough to play Saturday night but not good enough to get any farther than the Attaway town limits. She’s sure she’s heard their music before, but can’t quite place it. Gemma leads them through the crowd of people, towards at the bar. “How did you find this place?” Rhyme asks, gripping Gemma’s hand tighter as she maneuvers through the crowd. She’s afraid that if she lets go she’ll be lost.

Gemma shrugs, doesn’t turn around when she says, “An old friend of mine used to hang here all the time.” As they approach the bar, Rhyme can see how the lights from the stage reflect off the metal of the bar. It creates a haze around it. When Gemma pulls Rhyme to an empty corner, it’s like stepping into a cloud. 

“It’s a cool place,” Rhyme says. And it is, but it also makes Rhyme feel like a little kid. Like any moment someone would come over to her, grap her by the shoulders and say that she didn’t belong here. Well, technically she doesn’t. Her stomach flips, wondering if coming here with Gemma was a good idea. Why had Gemma even invited her? Then again, did it even matter? Her other option was watching a movie with Harmony and trying not to cry over Ellie and Astrid leaving. 

“It is. I’ve never brought anyone else here,” Gemma says, and looks at Rhyme when she smiles. Rhyme can a blush sneaking up her cheeks. 

With the hand she isn’t holding Rhyme’s with, Gemma waves to a bartender. Rhyme steps next to her, to look at the various bottles of alcohol behind the bar. She couldn’t recognize two, and there’s at least a hundred others. The bartender steps forward. He’s young, clean cut, and grabs a towel from the shelf to wipe down a stain in front of them as he asks, “Gemma, what can I get you tonight?” 

“Can I get two of my usual?” Gemma says, sitting down on a stool and flashing a smile. She lets go of Rhyme’s hand in the process, and Rhyme scrambles into a seat next to her in an attempt to appear natural. Gemma is still smiling at Richie, and he’s smiling back, and Rhyme’s hand is getting cold. Richie nods, then steps around to the other side of the bar. 

“So, you know him?” Rhyme tries to keep the prickliness out of her voice, but Gemma laughs and Rhyme takes that as a yes. Gemma reaches into her purse and pulls out a bill. How often had she come here for her to know the bartender but not to have brought anyone else here? Richie comes back with two neon green drinks the size of Rhyme’s fist in width, and two smaller shot glasses. Gemma pays Richie. He scurries away to deal with another customer. The shot glasses are filled with a completely clear liquid, so transparent Rhyme can see through it to Gemma’s reflection in the bar. 

Gemma pushes one of each to Rhyme. “You’ll want the other drink to chase it.” Rhyme trepidatiously picks up the shot glass. Gemma stares at her, eyebrow raised. “Unless you want me to drink them.”

Gemma holds her shot out, and Rhyme clinks the two of them together in the middle. She breathes in, and opens her mouth to let the shot go down. 

It’s not worse than she imagined, but it’s certainly not better, either. It reminds her of when she used to be home with a sore throat, and her mom had promised that if she drank an off brand fruit flavored cough syrup, she would be able to go back to school and see her friends the next day. The taste of the syrup was so polar to anything that could have been related to fruit, Rhyme questioned the benefit. She usually felt better a few hours later, though.

Gemma’s glass clanks into the bar. There’s a shine in her eyes that Rhyme isn’t accustomed to, but it makes her chest warm. Maybe that was just the drink.

\---

The band ends up not being half bad. Rhyme doesn’t completely understand what they’re saying, but it’s good to dance too. She’s never moved so much in her whole life. They break down the set at quarter of two. Gemma’s lip gloss still glimmers, even once the lights have flickered off, and the haze around the bar has disappeared. Gemma tugs on Rhyme’s hand again, pulling her outside. The only other people on the street were leaving the clubs on the block at the same time, judging by the amount of stumbling they were doing. Gemma uses her other hand to call an Uber. They navigate towards a park with wooden benches, which they collapses onto, Gemma with an exaggerated sigh. Rhyme rests her head against Gemma’s shoulder. The night is so quiet all she can hear is Gemma breathing. Rhyme is silent, afraid any noise would ruin the dream that tonight was. 

Of course, this feeling will end soon enough. It was already Sunday, and the car would arrive faster than Rhyme wants it too. She plays with Gemma’s fingers as she thinks over her next words. 

“I’m glad you brought me here,” Rhyme says. 

Gemma rests her chin on top of Rhyme’s head. When she speaks, Rhyme can feel Gemma’s words travelling through her spine. “I like spending time with you, sophomore.” 

Rhyme breathes out. “That’s a relief. I couldn’t tell.” 

Gemma laughs. “You’re kidding.” 

“I’m not.”

“Babe, I don’t just invite anyone to the spot, and I don’t remember the last time I got anyone’s mail for them. Did you...” Gemma clears her throat, scuffs her shoes against the sidewalk and presses her foot into Rhyme’s. “Did you think that I didn’t like you?” Another reverberation of words that fall to Rhyme’s stomach. 

Rhyme looks at their intertwined hands. Her hands are sweating like she’s just run a marathon. She hopes that Gemma doesn’t notice. 

“I didn’t think that you liked anyone. But I like being friends.” Rhyme looks at Gemma, eyes tired, but wide. “A lot, actually.” More than she should, maybe. 

A breeze runs through the street. It blows Gemma’s hair in front of her face, and Rhyme lifts her hand to brush it back behind her ear. She keeps her hand their, resting on the side of Gemma’s face. The reverberations in her stomach have started to burrow, to dig with a jackhammer.

“Is that what you want?” Gemma whispers, “To be friends?” 

Rhyme looks at their intertwined hands. Any moment now and another breeze might come by or the car would pull up or Gemma would realize that inviting Rhyme here in the first place was a huge mistake, and they’re so different she’s not sure they’re even friends, never mind if she knew what she wanted, but then she looks back to Gemma’s face. Gemma is beautiful, and her lip gloss still shines and her makeup is perfect and tonight was already a dream for Rhyme, so there’s no reason she can’t get the ending she wants, even if it seems crazy. Rhyme leans in and kisses her. They break apart, and Rhyme leans her forehead against Gemma’s. “No,” She says, “I’d like to be more than friends.” Gemma smiles, a small grin that brings out her dimples and makes Rhyme kiss her again. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed reading. comments make my heart smile. i'm on tumblr @ellierobbie and on twitter @stephsrooney thx.


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